Interrupt Us
by PutMoneyInThyPurse
Summary: Scotty comes up with unusual therapy for Kelly's guilt at the end of "A Cup of Kindness." Gen, just about.


AN: The first of many neglected fics in my sentbox. Trying to get all out of the way so I can quit with relatively few regrets. This is one of two or three that I actually like.

Beta'ed, and vastly improved, by the fabulous Allthinky.

* * *

"I just remembered an important appointment. Don't wait up."

Scotty let himself quietly out of the hotel room without waiting for an answer, leaving the cute clerk in there to 'console' Kelly, and sagged against the corridor wall. He counted himself lucky that his leg hadn't given out, twinged or otherwise allowed him to seem anything other than fully recovered as he'd jumped up to get the door. He'd had an unfortunate moment of that already, as they were leaving the hospital after getting him bandaged up. The bullet had gone straight through, so they hadn't needed to operate to get it out, although the docs had had to do some fancy stitching to repair his thigh muscle from the explosive damage of the exit wound. Scotty'd insisted on not using a wheelchair, and had waved off Kel's support as they walked out – really, _really, _he'd rather deal with an aching leg than his partner's downward spirals any day of the week – but his treacherous body had given out as the elevator had jerked at the end of its destination. The walking cane had slipped and he'd pitched forward, unable to support his own weight. Kelly had dived for him, caught him, steadied him—and the gutted expression on his face had just exasperated Scotty. He needed his partner to take his mind off the throbbing burn in his thigh, not make Scotty have to deal with _this_ on top of being hurt. "If you say you are sorry one more time," he had pre-empted any speech on his partner's part, "I am going to smack you in the mouth so hard…"

"All right." Kel's tight smile had fallen flat right out the gate, and it still didn't reach his eyes.

Now, having reached the bar, Scotty had decided on a plan.

A Coke and a half later, he was ready to put it into action. He slugged back the rest of his glass – he'd need the caffeine – and headed upstairs.

Arriving at the door to their hotel room, he arranged himself in position, propped against the doorframe as though he couldn't move another step. It was kind of embarrassing, really, because there was a continuing accompaniment of sounds that indicated that the private party for two was well under way. Steeling himself – he wasn't normally this uncouth – Scotty rapped on the door, loudly.

"Go away! We're busy!" His partner's voice was raspy, and he felt his face heat, but now was no time to relent.

"Kel…" He made it a whisper, knowing it would be enough.

A muffled curse, a hasty scramble from within, a duet of whispers, and the door opened faster than he thought possible, the bathroom door slamming simultaneously. Kelly was in his boxers; his face was flushed, his hair mussed, and the room, to put it politely, stank of too much fun. But his partner didn't look disgruntled; he looked scared and guilty, like a little kid.

Feeling slightly guilty himself, but knowing it was for the greater good, Scotty made himself look exhausted and weak as Kelly reached for him with both arms and cantilevered him up off the doorframe, then leaned heavily on Kelly, allowing his partner to take his weight—_man, _that felt good—and half-carry him to bed. "Just a minute," Kelly instructed, leaping for Scotty's pajamas and undressing him, taking off his shirt and buttoning him into the pajama top as he sat hunched over on the edge of the bed. Scotty would normally have batted his hand away and mentioned that he'd been shot in the leg, not the fingers, that he had passed Shirt Buttoning 101 when he'd been in short pants and didn't recall amnesia being on the list of injuries… But instead, he suppressed his sly smile and sat there helplessly, then leaned pathetically against Kelly as he eased him down against the pillows and stripped his suit pants off him, pleating his pajama pants into concertina folds and sliding them with careful gentleness up over his legs, holding the fabric well away from his injured thigh. "How's that feel?" Kelly muttered, eyes on his task.

"Hurts," Scotty whined.

If Kelly hadn't been consumed with guilt, Scotty thought, he would have seen that Scotty wasn't acting like himself; as it was, he lost a bit of color, rushing to get Scotty some water and painkillers and shooing the girl out with indecent haste.

Once he had Scotty settled in bed and fussed about for an inordinately long time, Kelly disappeared into the bathroom. A few seconds later, Scotty heard the shower turn on. Scotty smiled; one thing about spending three years with a guy, day in and day out, you could time his actions after coitus interruptus down to the second.

He counted off one and a half minutes, positioned himself artistically, and called plaintively, "Um, Duke?"

Sooner than Scotty would have expected, Kelly rushed out of the bathroom, flushed and dripping, towel wrapped around his waist, to find Scotty half-out of bed, looking as though he'd fallen. "How did you achieve that, Chester?" Kelly muttered, rushing to his side, hauling him back into bed and settling him back comfortably. "A trapeze artist you're not."

But all Scotty did was sigh pathetically, "Thanks, man," and close his eyes.

He felt a little guilty as his partner plumped his pillows, but steeled his resolve as the floorboards creaked, signaling Kel's return to the bathroom. He counted off another minute and a half, and let out a moan. "Kelly?"

There was a mutter from the bathroom, and Kel emerged, wet and betoweled as before. "You need something?" he said worriedly.

"Sorry, I just…" Scotty put on his best contrite tone. "My leg's killin' me, man, I just need to shift a little, but I can't manage it…"

"Okay, Stanley, let's get you on your side…" Kelly's gentle, firm touch, the way he cradled Scotty in the crook of his arm as he turned him carefully, almost, almost made Scotty feel guilty. Finally he was settled in bed, and Kelly turned back to the bathroom.

This time, there was no sound of water running. Ever vigilant, Scotty kept his eyes closed and his ears open. When there was a change in Kelly's heavy breathing, he took a deep breath and let 'er rip. "Kelly!" he screamed as though he were being murdered. _"Kelly!"_

The sound of Kelly bursting out of the bathroom was Scotty's cue to squeeze his eyes shut tighter, thrash wildly about in the sheets and call Kelly's name some more. "Hey, hey, you're dreaming, man, c'mon," Kelly said loudly. There was a rustle – presumably Kelly getting decent – then the bed dipped, and Kelly was there alongside him. He grabbed Scotty's shoulders, pulling his head into his pajama-clad lap. "No nightmares, didn't you see the sign? Strictly forbidden," he announced, shaking Scotty gently. "Wake up, now."

Scotty pretended to blink awake, wincing as he saw the naked concern in his partner's face. Darn it, now Kelly was making _him_ feel guilty! It was contagious! "I'm sorry," Scotty said with feeling.

"Don't even say that." Kelly's voice softened. "Hush, now." _Kelly's acting entirely too much like Mom,_ Scotty thought guiltily, as Kelly smoothed his hair, patted his shoulders and tucked him back in. his partner just wouldn't get lost; he remained sitting at the edge of the bed and murmuring reassurances until Scotty deliberately slowed and evened out his breathing.

When Kelly was entirely sure he was 'asleep', Scotty felt him move off the mattress, and felt touched and not a little guilty to feel Kelly pulling the covers up and stroking his hair softly several times before padding off into the bathroom to resume his unfinished business.

The interlude had been slightly longer, so he counted off two minutes this time. "Kel?"

There was a stifled groan from within. "Yeah?"

"I'm thirsty."

"I'll… be there… in a minute…" Kelly's heavy breathing was speeding up, and he couldn't have that.

"Hey, don't sweat it," Scotty called. "I can get it myself." He took a deep breath, then wrenched his leg out from under the covers, not holding back his cry as fresh agony ripped through him. Everything was momentarily forgotten as his eyes welled with tears of pain.

"Nonono, _hold it!" _In a second, Kelly was there, pajama jacket pulled down, but barely covering the tent in the pants. Not that Scotty didn't see stuff like that most mornings… "You wanna hold your horses, jeez!"

"Sorry…" Scotty muttered, choking on the sickening acid in his thigh. Kelly had slipped an arm around Scotty's shoulders: Scotty leaned back into it gratefully, closing his eyes – he _really _hadn't meant for it to hurt _this _much, and now he was glad of Kelly's firm support. Kelly's voice softened. "Just save the trapeze act for when you're fighting fit, Champ, hmm?"

Scotty flopped back, letting Kelly tuck him in and prop up his sore leg, the choking pain receding as Kel packed pillows around the limb. Kelly rubbed his shoulders and fussed with his covers more than was strictly necessary after he'd pulled the sheet up over him, but it relaxed Scotty, and felt good. He found himself sighing with contentment, and as Kelly brought him the water, helping him sit up with an arm round his back and a hand under his elbow, steadying his hand on the glass like his Mom used to do when he was little and sick, he contemplated calling the whole thing off.

But then he caught sight of Kelly's guilt-slumped shoulders as he headed for the bathroom.

He raised a philosophical eyebrow and counted off a minute, then knocked the water glass off the nightstand with a crash.

Kelly burst wildly into the room, hair plastered to his face with sweat, clothing even more bunched up than before. "What? What?"

Scotty carefully feigned sleep, arm flung out towards the nightstand, and watched through slitted eyes as Kelly caught sight of the glass and picked up the pieces. It took him a while to sweep everything up before finally disappearing into the bathroom.

It was less down to timing now and more down to listening, and he waited for Kelly's breathing to speed up in a certain way before bellowing, "Kel, someone's trying to get into the room!"

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as Kelly busted out of the bathroom, looking wildly around before grabbing his gun and scuttling crab-like to the door, flinging it open with a yell, then staring at the carpet on the corridor as though half-expecting it to leap up and attack him. "Your instincts are failing you, Big Chief Running Water," Kelly finally said in a strangely quavery voice, closing the door. "There's no-one out there."

"Sorry," Scotty said, leaning back, "coulda sworn I heard something."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Thelma," Kelly sighed as he headed back into the bathroom.

_One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand… _He got to thirty and bellowed, "Kel, the window!"

He assessed Kelly carefully as he rushed in, giving a repeat performance of the door fiasco. Nearly there…

Kelly turned and walked towards the bathroom. Suddenly, he came to a dead stop, his back to Scotty, his hand on the doorjamb.

"Holmes," he said without turning.

"Yes, Watson?"

"There is a little birdie, see – well, it's less of a birdie and more of a _rat, _which I myself smell – that is commencing to tell me, you see, that the events of this night so far have not been entirely the product of _chance, _so to speak."

"I see." Scotty smiled despite himself. He'd thought it would take Kelly a few more times to cotton on, the way he'd varied his technique._ My man is just too smart, _he congratulated himself inwardly. Outwardly he merely said, "And on what, sir, do you base this assumption, which I shall not affirm or dismiss as groundless?"

"You say it is groundless, then."

"I distinctly said that I would _not_ say it was groundless."

"Well, if we are speaking of a _basis-" _Kelly turned to face him, leaning on the doorjamb with one elbow at shoulder level, arm parallel to the floor – "then I have for a frame of reference, sir, the fact that you have been injured numerous times previously, and never seen fit to make such a…" He paused.

"A pest of myself?" Scotty smiled.

"Now that is the selfsame word I had in mind." Kelly's words were flippant, but his eyes were worried as he walked back to Scotty, standing at the foot of his bead. "Only I would not be so impolite as to _say_ it, y'see."

"True, true, indeed you would not. Well, I must plead guilty as charged, Your Honor." He couldn't quite hold back his smug grin.

Kelly blinked. "You—" he appeared to be having trouble articulating it. "You deliberately… you did all that," he flapped a hand in a circle helplessly, "on… on_ purpose?"_

"Mm-hmm."

"You…" Kelly spluttered. "You sit there, and say 'Mm-hmm', after you… when you knew that I…" He trailed off. "What – what possible reason could you.. Why are you…"

"Can you not deduce my reasons, sir?"

Kelly looked from the bathroom to Scotty, then back again. His face suddenly fell, and Scotty groaned inwardly – he'd let the guessing game go on too long. "Payback. Okay, I get it," his partner said, the hazel eyes becoming shuttered as he set off on a tour of the room, pacing in circles. "I shouldn't have – I've got no couth at all, do I, entertaining in here like that, makin' you leave, with you needing to rest—"

"HEY!" Scotty wished he could whistle, but his arms were a little heavy. Not firing on all cylinders. "Willya – willya just not go drivin' off on the Guilt Highway without letting me get a word in edgeways, okay?" He scowled darkly at Kelly's closed-off face. Then suddenly he chuckled. "You are a saint, man," he managed to say. "Anyone else woulda beaned me with the bedside lamp long ago."

"Now that is a blatant untruth, and here I thought you were such a wonderful judge of character…" But Kelly's dark expression was lifting as he looked at Scotty, who was still laughing. He stopped pacing and took a few steps towards the bed, which Scotty took as a good sign. "Would you do me the favor of cluing me in, sir, as I do remain profoundly in the dark, indeed I do."

Scotty just raised his eyebrows. "How about this," he proposed. "I don't keep this up all night… and you consider yourself sufficiently punished for your perceived, if wholly imaginary, sins."

Kelly blinked.

Finally, he said, "I do not believe that you did that, man. Of all the cruel and unusual punishments, this has to take the prize…"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Worked, _worked, _what do you mean, worked—?"

"Well," Scotty said smugly, "right now you're thinking of justifiable homicide upon my person, where-_as, _whereas, sir, not short hours ago you were thinking of _un-_justifiable homicide upon your own self, or portions thereof, which in addition to being a load of paperwork is sure a drag upon the guy who has to share a room with you."

"I was not—"

"No, you weren't," Scotty stared hard at Kelly, "but you were feeling you deserved to be punished, and that's a dangerous attitude. Get an agent killed."

Kelly set his jaw and averted his eyes, and Scotty could hear it as though his partner had said it out loud: _My mistake gets me killed, fair enough. My mistake gets you killed? Unacceptable._

"Ooookay," Scotty clapped his hands. "You go right on ahead into the bathroom and start up again, and I'll pull you out a couple hundred more times. When you feel that ol' burden of guilt start to lift, send me a cable."

The sidelong glance Kelly gave him was sheepish, amused – and showed a flash of his old spirit.

Scotty reached out, closing the distance. "Hey, I could use a hand here."

The alacrity with which Kelly leapt to his side belied his dark mutterings. "A hand, says the man, he says I need a hand. Cry wolf. You old faker…"

He kept grumbling as he placed his arms round Scotty and gently but firmly shifted him to a more comfortable position. It felt good to have Kelly close, close enough to knock some sense into, he hoped. Through judicious wriggling, Scotty made sure he ended up with Kelly seated beside him on the bed, and when the idiot tried to move, Scotty reached out, snagging his arm. "You did not _shoot_ me, Wild Bill Hiccup," he intoned. "Do you or do you not get that?"

Kelly raised his eyes to Scotty's. "I…"

"And before you answer, remember that your virility hangs in the balance."

His partner snorted one of those laughs where you just can't help yourself. "You make a convincing argument, sir."

"Especially when it's backed up by biological necessity." The hazel eyes darkened; Scotty gave Kelly a little shake. "Remember the penalty for taking the Guilt Express."

"In about twenty minutes you'll lose all your leverage."

"Ya think?" Scotty's smile was positively wicked. "Never underestimate the power of one who shares your room. I should know."

"Oh, yeah?" Kelly's voice was soft.

"You betcha. I bunked in with a brother. I have ways of making you talk."

Kelly raised his hands in surrender, finally cracking a smile. "You win."

Scotty heaved a gusty, exaggerated sigh of relief. "That took long enough."

"You were holding my _manhood_ hostage!"

"That I was, was I not? I was that."

"Well, you don't have to be so smug about it!"

"I thought I had the sympathy vote."

"Not anymore, you low-down, devious schemer."

Scotty laughed out loud then, sliding down under the covers. "Go west, young man, and answer the call of nature."

Kelly stood. "Some Rhodes Scholar. Couldn't you be more delicate in your phrasing? You make it sound like I'm going to take a leak."

Scotty's only answer was a yawn. He fully expected Kelly to run off in search of some privacy, but instead, he heard the sound of shuffling feet, and then Kelly bent to adjust the covers around him. This time he did yank them out of his hand. "I am perfectly capable of covering my own self up. Now go, lie back and think of England."

"God Save the Queen," echoed Kelly's receding laugh. He paused at the bathroom door. "Scotty?"

Scotty rolled his eyes at the seriousness in his partner's voice._ "Now_ what?"

"Boy, you don't make it easy for a man to say thank you, do you? I'm trying to say thanks, is all!"

"Since when do we thank each other?"

"Thanking is a common courtesy, you uncouth – really, I'm going to write your Mom."

"You do that, and don't forget to give her a blow-by-blow of your private bathroom activities."

Scotty _had _to be crazy; instead of silver bells or pretty girls' voices, it was the ringing laugh as Kelly closed the door behind him that was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.


End file.
